


student seeks swordsman

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 22:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19160056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Alec goes down to Riverside in hopes of getting someone angry enough to kill him. Here he meets the swordsman named St. Vier, who is not very interested in That.





	student seeks swordsman

Even after how last year ended, Alec still lived in the University sector of town nearly all summer, where rent was cheap and where Aunt Diane could get a hold of him easily. During the day he got into rows with other students, any he could find, and reread texts that hardly meant anything to him anymore. At night he mostly piddled away hours staring out the window or sitting on the balcony. His room had a balcony; that was its main feature. He’d been very pleased with that, and Charles had liked it too—but Charles had been kicked out, and so Alec was the only one left to enjoy it. He wasn’t sure he enjoyed it anymore.

At the end of the summer he received a letter. It invited him back for the next semester at the University; this would be his last year there, and then he could graduate. There were various books on the syllabus, and other supplies that the letter suggested. And a reminder to turn in his tuition money, which he hadn’t yet delivered—but the University was sure this was merely his mistake, and they would await it patiently.

Alec read the letter with trembling hands. Then he ripped it up. He didn’t have a fire going in the grate—it was too hot this time of year to have a fire going constantly—so he didn’t burn the pieces, but he stood on the balcony and dropped them and watched them drift to the ground like petals, just a little too slow for snowflakes.

Then he gathered up all the money Aunt Diane had sent him recently, put some in his purse and some in his pockets, and headed out to Riverside.

* * *

 

It was not the first time Alec had ever been to Riverside.

He’d been there, oh, once or twice before. Students didn’t go, generally. Not that they were ripe pickings for thieves, exactly—they didn’t carry that much money—but Riversiders were known to be violent, and they were much better at cards and didn’t have very good alcohol (at least in most of the students’ opinions) so the taverns weren’t all that fun. Alec didn’t go all that often because he was usually busy studying astronomy and physics and geology and philosophy and mathematics and all those other fun things, much more fun than going out on the town. But he’d been once or twice, with friends.

It was not the first time Alec had ever been to Riverside but it was perhaps the first time he’d gone alone and, he vaguely thought, it would be the last time he went—there or anywhere. He wouldn’t come back. He hadn’t decided exactly how it would happen—his death, that was to say—and he didn’t want to think too closely about it, that would take too much energy, but he was going down to Riverside and he was not going to come back, and the University could go fuck itself. He’d leave Diane’s tuition money for whoever looted his corpse. He was feeling generous.

He didn’t throw himself off the Bridge and into the river, though. For one thing, no one would loot his corpse that way. For another, it was not nearly dramatic enough. He rather wanted someone to kill him. To this purpose, he kept a keen eye on all the people he passed by. Most of them, for Riversiders, looked rather mundane. One man tried to pick his pocket, but when he grabbed the man’s wrist he didn’t start a fight, but only yanked away and ran off.

Alec called after him, “Coward!” The people on the street looked at him with interest, but no particular censure.

He stopped at a tavern, a small one. At the front bar, he ordered beer, and he looked at all the men and women around him, all the various options. The bright clothing, the leering smiles and scowls. The couples sitting close to each other or in each other’s laps, the small clustered groups conspiring at…something, who knew what. His eye landed on a man in mostly brown, including a large brown cape. His overshirt had a slight stain on it that might have been dried blood; more than that, he had a sword. It was, Alec thought, very easy to kill someone with a sword. You could probably do it without thinking very hard. And swordsmen were known to be violent people.

So Alec moved to sit next to the swordsman, perhaps a little too close. He examined him quietly. Since this man would be his murderer, it seemed like a good idea to get a good look at him. After a bland examination, he decided the swordsman was handsome enough. He had a hard jawline. Not a bad person to be killed by.

When his beer came, he took a quick sip and, before he could second-guess himself, threw the rest of the beer at the swordsman. The swordsman failed to dodge. Most of the beer soaked into his shirt, though a little spilled onto the table.

He looked over. His eyes were surprisingly blue.

Alec bit his lip. “An accident,” he drawled, fighting the odd impulse to actually apologize. That man’s shirt would be more stained now than before. But why should he give a fuck? He didn’t. He smirked when the man continued to look at him, and did actually apologize, voice thick with sarcasm. “I’m very sorry, of course. But I’m sure that shirt doesn’t cost too much.”

The swordsman tilted his head slightly. Then he said, “You’ve spilled all your beer.”

“Your fault,” Alec said. “You jostled my arm.”

(He had, of course, done no such thing.)

The swordsman pursed his lips. Then he sighed. “I’ll pay for a refill. Meg!” He called over the barmaid. “Refill this man’s cup.”

Meg looked at Alec and grinned. Alec, unsure why she was smiling so _widely_ , scowled.

“On my tab,” the swordsman said.

Alec felt that the situation had gotten a little out of his control. “I can pay for it,” he said. “And anyhow, I don’t want any more of your shitty beer. Clearly it spills too easily.”

Meg gave the swordsman a _look_. Then she refilled Alec’s beer anyhow. She leaned close, and Alec thought she was trying to show off her cleavage until she murmured in his ear, “Mind how you talk. He seems to be in a tolerant mood this evening, but that’s St. Vier you’re talking to. You don’t want to be starting fights with him. Plenty folks have tried.”

She patted Alec’s cheek before retreating. Alec’s fist clenched around his mug.

“So you’re St. Vier.”

St. Vier’s eyes were still cool, unreadable. “I am.”

He didn’t ask if Alec had heard of him. There was no one in the city, probably, who hadn’t heard of him—Riverside, the Hill, the University sector, everywhere. Everyone knew about St. Vier, and all the people he’d killed too. For a giddy instant, Alec felt the glory of the idea of being killed by St. Vier. Then, _too glorious_ , he thought. It felt stupidly dramatic, the thought of being killed by the Hill’s most fashionable duelist. Too fucking noble.

Probably too noble to try to get killed by a swordsman at all, but they were his best bet tonight. Probably.

He offered St. Vier a coin for the beer, and St. Vier politely refused. “Take it for your shirt, then,” he said. “Or is this already too much? Your Riverside prices do confuse me.” What he had with him was silver, at least, not gold. Aunt Diane had sent him gold, but he’d had it changed during the summer. Gold was not the kind of thing you could use on the street.

St. Vier said, “I’m not lacking for money currently. I won’t begrudge a student.”

Abruptly Alec felt rather condescended to. So that was it. The great St. Vier wouldn’t accept money from students, and couldn’t be lowered to kill them either. Fuck him, then. Alec could get what he wanted elsewhere.

He wandered away from the bar, mug in hand. There were card games going at the tables. He waited for a new round to start at a table where another swordsman sat. This one was older, grimier. More of a hired sword than a duelist, Alec thought. Not so noble to be killed by a man like him. No one would accuse Alec of being too grandiose.

He lost the money he’d brought with him little by little. He wasn’t trying too hard to keep it. Nevertheless, when he finally accused the swordsman at the table of cheating, he was pretty certain he was telling the truth.

The swordsman turned red. “Watch your tongue.”

“They said that at the bar, too,” Alec drawled. “I thought in Riverside people talked more freely, not less.”

“Say what you like, if you’re ready to back it up. Are you?”

Alec stood, pushing his chair out. “Mm. How do you want me to back it up? With facts? There were too many aces in the deck—rather speaks for itself.”

“It’s a double deck.”

“And we saw all eight aces and only used half of it. And it’s a coincidence, I’m sure, that five of those aces went to you.”

“Mind your tongue.”

“You’ve said that already. Shall we go through the rest of the deck? Oh, we can’t—your friend’s already shuffled. Then I’ve spoken freely, and I’ve backed up my facts—how will you back up yours?”

“With steel,” the swordsman hissed, “if you’ll answer it.”

Oh, perfect. The swordsman had won nearly all of Alec’s money, but Alec had won the game. “I don’t have a sword with me,” he said, “but…”

“I’ll take the challenge.”

Alec was quite astonished. He had only turned halfway around when St. Vier’s hand pushed him back, out of the circle of people, away from the other swordsman. “Oh, I don’t…”

“I’ll claim your challenge,” St. Vier repeated, “if you’ll still make it.”

There was a gleam in his eyes. It wasn’t exactly blood-thirsty—not the gleam of the students Alec knew who’d set dogs against each other to see one of them die—but it was anticipatory. Alec settled back on his heels. With that look, St. Vier probably wouldn’t appreciate Alec trying to get in his way. He wanted the fight. Maybe not as much as Alec wanted death, but with more conviction. He faced the other swordsman as if he had a right to take whatever the swordsman would give him—for Alec to deny him would be robbery, cruelty.

He stepped back.

The swordsman eyed them both. Then he scoffed. “Fine. I’ll fight you to first blood.”

St. Vier said, “That’s not my usual.”

“I wasn’t going to kill the lad. Just teach him to keep his mouth shut.”

St. Vier shrugged, accepting. “Very well. I’ve already claimed the duel. I’ll hardly back down.”

The swordsman laughed. “I bet you won’t.”

* * *

 

They fought outside. Something about not getting blood on the tavern’s floorboards. Instead the blood St. Vier drew fell on the street and mingled with the dust. One cut, and it wasn’t a fatal one. Some of the bystanders were surprised—they’d been making bets as the fight began, on whether St. Vier would win or lose, whether he’d kill the man or let him walk away.

Alec said to St. Vier, as he cleaned his sword, “You lost me money.”

“Did I?”

“I bet he’d kill you and come after me.”

St. Vier raised his eyebrows. “He’s not good enough. He has a weak guard. Besides, he wouldn’t come after you. I claimed your duel. He would have left you alone either way.”

“My savior.” Alec took the last of his money out of his purse. He really had lost his bet—he’d thought he would, but a man can always hope. Now he had only one silver coin left. It didn’t even jingle. “Would this pay for your commission?”

St. Vier said, “It was a favor. Call it a whim if it bothers you. It was good practice for me, anyhow.”

“So you didn’t really care if he killed me.”

“It’s none of my business who kills who. You’re not under my protection.” St. Vier gave him a look, very different from the knowing look Meg had given him earlier but filled with just as much condescension and meaning. “You shouldn’t be in Riverside, you know. It’s not a place for University students.”

“I know. If you didn’t really care if he killed me, you should have let him.”

“I will next time, if you wish.”

“Next time? So we’ll be seeing each other again?”

Somehow he ended up following St. Vier out of the tavern and down the street, still arguing. Their conversation moved from argument over the night’s events to other things—discussion of the beer’s quality, of recent gossip, of the weather. Alec spoke of these things, anyhow, and St. Vier mostly nodded or shook his head, responding in brief, letting Alec’s mind wander as he would. He didn’t drive Alec away, though, so Alec was too amused to leave his side. He wondered how far he could push St. Vier before St. Vier would snap. It might be fun to see someone so precise break out in a fit of temper.

He followed St. Vier right into the house where he stayed, right up to his room. There, at the door, St. Vier paused and looked at him.

So this was as far as St. Vier’s tolerance went. Well, it was fair enough, but Alec was annoyed. Really St. Vier should have driven him away before now. Now he was too tired to want to walk all the way home, all alone, like a dog dragging his tail behind him. Might be a good way to get killed, but he was too tired to die tonight.

He put a hand on St. Vier’s shoulder. The brown fabric of his shirt was softer than he had expected. “You’ll let me stay the night?”

“Will I?”

Alec leaned close. “Don’t let me down now. You’re my hero, remember?” He brushed his lips against St. Vier’s cheek.

“…so I am.” St. Vier seemed amused. “Come in.”

They went inside.

The rooms weren’t big, though they were nice enough. Plenty of room, not a lot of decoration. No paintings like a noble’s house would have. No mirrors, no fripperies at all. Still, plenty of room. Alec wandered around it as St. Vier hung up his cloak.

Alec didn’t actually need to follow through on the flirtation, of course. He was aware of that. St. Vier was in a good mood for some reason—maybe because he’d won a fight—and feeling indulgent. He clearly didn’t care whether Alec was there to fuck or just to annoy him for a little while longer.

But then St. Vier stripped out of the beer-stained shirt, and his torso was a little shiny with sweat. There was hair on it too. Plenty of hair.

So Alec wanted to touch St. Vier for his own reasons. He wanted a feel of the hair, and the muscles. Muscles which got some use when St. Vier carried him over to the bed, making him feel very small—his only lovers in the past had been casual, and had been students, not much bigger than him, not very romantic either—then paused, hovering over him, to help him out of his student’s uniform.

“I’ve never fucked a swordsman,” Alec mused.

“I have,” St. Vier said cheerfully. “We’re not all that bad at it.”

“Everyone says that.”

It turned out, though, that St. Vier was right. More than right, really. He was better than anyone Alec had ever been with, by orders of fucking magnitude—and Alec knew he embarrassed himself, falling apart in front of him—but that was all right, it didn’t matter. He’d be dead soon anyway. And who was St. Vier? A fashionable swordsman, but no one of any real importance. It didn’t matter if he saw Alec weak, vulnerable, straining for pleasure and desperate for anything St. Vier could give him. It was… it was nothing.

St. Vier was no University man; he was also no noble. He was something else, a swordsman, halfway between life and death, not really… real. In that way he was oddly safe. Lying next to him in bed, Alec didn’t mind the fact that they were both sweaty and the night hot enough as it was. He thought it was a good place to be, here. Even if—especially because—it wasn’t quite exactly real.

Not real until the morning, when he woke up and St. Vier was still there in bed and still sound asleep. He didn’t notice Alec slipping out, putting his clothes back on. When Alec had all his things gathered, his face washed, even his hair combed with St. Vier’s comb, he was still perfectly at ease.

Alec stood at the door for a moment, looking at him. He pictured how he’d tell the story to his classmates at University: _I saw St. Vier asleep. That’s right, Richard St. Vier. He fought a duel for me for free, even though he charges nobles loads and loads of money. Bought me a drink, too. And I saw him asleep. Asleep, he looked both hard and soft at once. I wanted to kiss him again, and touch him again—I wanted to climb back into bed with him…_

But that veered from the point.

Anyhow, he’d never tell his classmates any of this because he didn’t have classmates anymore. He wasn’t a University student anymore either. He was done, even if he hadn’t managed to die last night. He was done.

* * *

 

When Richard St. Vier woke up, he could smell fire. Meat cooking. He blinked awake, found the boy from last night—the University student—cooking over his fireplace.

“I went out and bought some fowl,” the student said. “Not sure what kind, honestly. Didn’t ask. Got the cheapest there was. Used up my last coin, though.”

Richard muttered some thanks and rolled out of bed. As he was getting his pants on, the student continued. “Lost the rest of my money betting against you in that fight.”

“I wouldn’t generally recommend betting against me.” Hadn’t the student been losing his money already, though? Richard rubbed at his eyes. So it had seemed, at least… though he’d been halfway across the room, until he’d seen that swordsman starting to get antsy.

“In a way, you owe me money,” the student said.

Richard snorted.

“I have nothing left to pay rent.”

“That’s tough.”

“You should let me live with you.”

Richard raised his eyebrows.

“I can cook and clean,” the student said primly. “I can blow you, fuck you…”

Richard couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Call me Alec.”

_Call me Alec…_ not his full name, then. He seemed to be from up the Hill; probably holding something back. Some sort of tempestuous secret. But Richard didn’t care. Trouble up the Hill was work for him, and trouble in Riverside he could manage. Alec was all kinds of trouble from what he’d seen, but…

“Sure,” he said, “move in.”

He was kind of curious to see what exactly Alec would get up to. If Alec wanted to stick around, well, that was just about ideal.

**Author's Note:**

> I know they meet in some canonical short story but I haven't read anything but Swordspoint so oh well. Here's my take on it. I can actually think of so many different ways they could have met, and it makes me happy to think about the possibilities... I'm not going to guess at how they meet in canon yet lols, I'd probably make a fool of myself.  
> I just enjoy Alec's habit of making Richard fight ppl for him and want to believe it started early. Why didn't Richard kill the guy? Well bc it's late at night and I don't have the emotional energy to write ppl killing each other. Too hardcore for this tired author. Another day!  
> (Also, I feel like this way, the first time Richard kills someone for Alec can be a milestone in their relationship. So that's good?? idk?)  
> Comments and kudos are very welcome :)


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